Partially Developed Storylines
by 898700
Summary: Fairy Tale AU with a twist. Prince Morgan is on quest to save a princess locked in a tower, but instead falls for a wizard, Reid, who is guarding her.


**AN:** Written for the Morgan/Reid Kink meme at Livejournal, for the prompt: _Fairy Tale AU with a twist. Prince Morgan is on quest to save a princess locked in a tower, but instead falls for a wizard, Reid, who is guarding her._ While in my mind I know there is so much more of this story, I can't seem to muster the energy to write at the moment. Hell, I originally wrote this more than a month ago, and only the fact that I have no new chaper/fic at FFnet or AO3 for May made me crosspost to the archives (I've been posting at least once a month since November 2011, yay for me :D). So I promise I'll continue this story, even if I can't say when.

* * *

"She isn't usually like this, is she?" Prince Derek asks with a half smile. It slowly dies in his lips when the mage doesn't immediately start listing the many charming qualities of Princess Emily.

"Err …" the thin man starts nervously, eventually, after he's stopped trying to squeeze the water out of his hair. "I mean, no? It's just that she doesn't like being treated like a damsel in distress."

Prince Derek frowns.

"She's a Princess. In a tower." And, just in case he got something wrong, he adds "With a wizard to protect her."

"Ah yes," the mage says before deciding to use magic, apparently giving up on the most rustic drying methods. It comes in the form of an unexpected blast of wild, warm air that almost makes Prince Derek fall on his ass and leaves the caster's longish hair disheveled. "See, about that, she's actually hiding."

Of course she is.

"From a wicked stepmother," Prince Derek ventures, remembering well how these stories go. "Or a jealous witch's spell."

The mage looks at him, obviously over thinking his next words. "Actually, Queen Elizabeth is still alive, so no stepmother. And, as much as the Princess insists, the Queen is in no way, form or manner a witch."

Oh.

"A dragon, then?" Prince Derek offers.

That earns him a chortle.

"More like marriage suitors."

Oh.

* * *

He finally convinces Princess Emily to accompany him. She says she agrees because, over time, life in a tower is boring. He says _'yes, of course'_, not that he's spent any amount of time locked in a tower himself; but internally he smiles. He's slowly but surely winning her over.

* * *

"I don't think this is safe," he says for what feels like the hundredth time since gaining two companions. As in any of those previous occasions, the Princess dismisses his concerns and charges. As in about half of those situations, the mage's help is the only reason their entrails don't end splattered all over the nearby bushes.

They spend two days in the place while the mage dissects the three-headed manticore, taking painfully detailed notes on the disposition of its internal organs, the sharpness of its teeth and the _'wonderful design'_ (the mage's words) of its poisonous tail spines.

Prince Derek is a little bit freaked out by the two of them, not that he'll admit it.

* * *

"His name is Spencer, you know," Princess Emily interrupts when he's once again, without luck, trying to make her listen to all the reasons why he would make a great royal husband. At his obvious lack of understanding she huffs and nods in the direction of the mage, who's riding in the rear, forever lagging behind, his attention on every single animal, vegetal and mineral that crosses their path.

"I know," Prince Derek says. Even if he previously didn't, now he does.

"You don't have to call him _mage_ all the time," Princess Emily says. She doesn't wait for him to acknowledge her words, turning her horse around to where the mage has dismounted and is crouching down, curiously inspecting a queer looking plant.

"I think I saw this one once, in a scroll," the mage declares with a wicked smile when Princess Emily reaches his side. "Look at this," he instructs, moving to touch the bright carmine surface.

"Spencer!" Princess Emily yells when the young man is swept off his feet and disappears as the plant closes with a loud _snap_. It takes a moment before Prince Derek is able to control his scared horse and dismount, sword in hand. He has no idea how to attack a killer plant, but by the calculated look the equally armed Princess by his side has, it is obvious she has a plan.

She turns at him and points towards the thing's roots, thicker than a grown man's chest.

He nods, and they attack.

* * *

"It was amazing," the mage says, squirming and gesturing widely and basically making himself a nuisance while Prince Derek tries to clean the small burn in his face. He wouldn't be doing this, but Princess Emily didn't give him a choice when she left to hunt their dinner.

"Pretty boy, seriously, stop moving."

That effectively quiets the mage, and Prince Derek smirks at the blush and the surprised-deer-like brown eyes, and returns to his task.

* * *

Another campsite, another time he finds himself in charge of un-prince-like chores. With a sigh he pulls at another tangle of hair and spiked vines, and cuts.

"You are insane, mage." Prince Derek isn't sure how it is that, while absolutely capable of facing and defeating dragons, griffins, basilisks, cockatrices, manticores and the like, the mage is utterly hopeless when it comes to sentient plants.

"_Spencer_," Princess Emily pipes up, dropping a couple freshly killed rabbit by the fire. When the mage turns at her, almost making Prince Derek slash his face, she remains silent and smirks.

"You are insane, _Spencer_," Prince Derek says after a pause.

* * *

"You think of yourself as _'Prince Derek'_, don't you?" Princess Emily asks while she cleans the sweat in his face with a wet, cool cloth. Closer to the fire, Spencer sleeps unmoving, exhausted after using every drop of magic he had to save Prince Derek's life.

He looks tiredly at the Princess, already feeling much, much better than just a few hours ago, but still bone weary. "I _am_ a Prince," he defends himself, a lifetime of lessons behind his words.

She looks at him, something bittersweet in her eyes and the way she smiles.

"_Derek_," she says, stressing the word by touching his chest with her open palm. Then she turns it to her own chest. "_Emily_."

He looks at her, weariness clouding his mind, not really understanding her intentions. Then Spencer stirs, the flicking light dancing over his sleeping face, and something shifts in Prin- … in Derek's mind.

"_Spencer_," Emily says as he closes his eyes.

* * *

It makes sense, but only when Emily explains it, and only for as long as Derek doesn't allow himself to analyze the situation. She is the only one in perfect health and they still are in the middle of a forest plagued by dangerous creatures. They can't stay in one place, it is too dangerous; same as with Spencer and Derek riding on their own with how weak they still are.

Derek spends the next days dozing with Spencer draped over his back, sleeping while Derek's horse walks at a sedated pace behind Emily's, the third horse trailing last with all their bags. On the third day, when he's feeling remarkably better and his wounds hurt much less, they trade places. Spencer might be taller than him, but slouched down as he is, he fits perfectly against Derek's chest.

On the fifth day Spencer insists on riding his own horse, and he almost falls once before Derek maneuvers his own mount so they are side-by-side and he can reach and prevent possible accidents.

Spencer is his curious self by the eight day, and it only takes him a week to get himself in trouble again, having to jump in a stream to escape from a swarm of bees that are trying to kill him. After the first look as a wet and dripping Spencer reaches the riverbank, Derek announces he's getting dinner, and flies.


End file.
